


Five Times Travis Had a Personality

by AuroraNova



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 05:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: Because let's face it, the show's writers left that task to us.





	1. Breakfast at Travis's

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone remember back in the day we had GTAP: Give Travis a Personality? Well, I've started enjoying the fandom again and here we are. As always, I don't own anything and make no money.

It was common knowledge aboard _Enterprise_ that Travis had a hearty appetite. Therefore when Hoshi saw he’d selected nothing but toast and a kiwi for breakfast she naturally asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He checked around the mess hall. “Does something look wrong?”

“That’s barely a snack by your standards.” There was breakfast casserole out and Travis would normally have a generous portion. Even Hoshi’s modest serving looked like a lot compared to Travis’s current meal.

“Right. Commander Tucker and I are testing the shuttlepod upgrades this morning.”

She didn’t see the connection. “What does that have to do with your breakfast?”

“We have to test the upgrades thoroughly.”

With a mouthful of food Hoshi had to wait before she could once again ask how this related to his meager breakfast. As it happened she was spared the need when Malcolm joined them. “Good morning,” he said. “Say, Travis, how many consecutive barrel rolls are you aiming for this time?”

“Seventeen.”

Hoshi was thankful that shuttlepod testing didn’t require a linguist.


	2. Travis Mayweather, Film Critic

_Enterprise_ was currently surveying an asteroid field which the scientists aboard loved (with the exception, of course, of Subcommander T’Pol who was merely fascinated). They could – and did – go on at length about its unusual density and composition, the presence of anaerobic bacteria, and theories as to how this asteroid field came to exist.

This was all well and good for the science teams, but the rest of the crew was bored and beginning to wonder if they were ever going to leave. Even Malcolm ran out of tests, upgrades, overhauls, and the like in the armory, which was unprecedented. Trip had finally found time to write up his latest engineering breakthrough and Hoshi also took advantage of the down time to write a paper on Nausicaan dialects. It was nice to have a little down time in the beginning, nobody would argue that. Now, however, it had gone on entirely too long. Travis was seriously considering asking for permission to install solitaire on the computer at his station. And maybe mahjong too.

His sanity was saved, unexpectedly, by Dr. Phlox. Not in the Denobulan’s official capacity as a doctor, though. Instead it happened after movie night when Phlox wanted to know Travis’s thoughts on how the movie depicted Boomers.

Travis had several thoughts and none of them were particularly complimentary. For one thing Boomers multitasked more than the movie showed. No Boomer ship would have someone whose only job was ship’s medic because everyone had to pitch if the ship was going to function properly. Moreover, while Boomer kids certainly started learning about ships early, they were still kids, a fact the movie overlooked. According to the filmmakers Boomers didn’t have childhoods and that was just absurd.

“Not to mention,” continued Travis while he had an interested audience, “they were way too formal. Boomer crews are families. Sometimes biological, sometimes not, but always families.”

“There are hierarchies, aren’t there?”

“Sure, but it’s not Starfleet. You don’t say ‘sir’ all the time.”

Phlox considered this for a moment. “This isn’t your first criticism over the portrayal of Boomers in cinema.”

“I’m sure it won’t be the last, either.”

“Have you considered writing your own movie script?”

“It never occurred to me.” For one thing, Travis had never considered himself much of a writer. Though he was starting to think that actual writing ability wasn’t a prerequisite for penning screenplays. He usually didn’t have a lot of free time, either, but free time was one thing he currently had in abundance.

“Perhaps you should consider it,” suggested Phlox.

Travis promised to think about it, and the next evening asked Malcolm’s opinion over chess. Malcolm figured, “Why not?” and Travis started considering a plot.

Eventually _Enterprise_ left the asteroid belt, Travis got busier, and his script was neglected. Eight years later, after he lost a foot in the Battle of Cheron, he was moping through physical therapy when his sister threatened to come ‘take care of him’ if he didn’t find something he enjoyed. That was a truly frightening prospect so he dug up the old file and got serious about writing his script.

He invited Phlox to the movie premiere.


	3. Superior Piloting

Travis normally would’ve been on a more challenging, invigorating hike than the trail he was presently walking. Edkirla Colony had several, too, but they required a lot of scrambling over boulders and reaching for handholds which was a nonstarter with his sprained wrist. So he found himself meandering along with Liz Cutler, who’d needed someone to join her since nobody was allowed to go off on shore leave alone.

She adjusted her scarf. “Hard to believe this is summer.”

“You say that, but you insisted on an outside activity,” pointed out Travis. Anyway, the Andorian colonists considered the weather tropical.

“The air may be cold, but it’s fresh and not recycled.”

He didn’t see what the big deal was with fresh, non-recycled air. Air was air, wasn’t it?

Liz continued, “Never mind the cold. How does it feel to be the first human recipient of the Har’vod Medal for Superior Piloting?”

It turned out that when you were concentrating hard enough, trying to navigate a shaking and buffeted shuttlepod through both an ion storm and trinary comet, you didn’t notice small details like spraining your wrist. If you happened to be rescuing the daughter of an Andorian colony’s prime minister and the heir to a branch of an ancient Andorian noble house, you also earned yourself a medal in the process.

“I was just doing my job.”

“Not many people, not even many good helmsmen, could’ve done that,” said Liz.

“Maybe. I was still doing my job. I’m expected to do my best, just like everyone else.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense, but you still got a special honor. And before you say it, I know the rescue was a team effort, but it couldn’t have been pulled off without you.”

His mom, at least, was going to love this, the rescue was good for relations with the Andorians, and the medal did look pretty cool in its magnetic frame on his wall. Still, there was something that bothered Travis about the whole affair. “The thing is, for me, saving any two people is satisfying. I don’t get the impression that the Andorians would’ve cared much if it hadn’t been the prime minister’s daughter. They barely mentioned that we also saved her assistant.”

“You’re right,” said Liz after a moment of consideration. “And at the end of the day, internal motivation is always best. You’re not after glory.”

Liz made him sound noble. Travis liked it.


	4. Sketch Diplomacy

Malcolm wasn’t certain how he felt about this first contact protocol. On the one hand, the Belmaodians weren’t greeting them with the business ends of any weapons. On the other hand, business ends of weapons he understood. Arts and crafts time as diplomacy he did not understand in the least.

Travis wasn’t having such difficulties; he’d already outlined a shuttlepod while Malcolm visually scanned the area under guise of contemplating his blank paper. “You’re going to risk offending them if you don’t start drawing soon,” murmured Travis.

A valid point, unfortunately. “I haven’t the slightest idea what to draw.” After all, the only things he did sketch out were weapons specs, and he couldn’t very well allow Belmaodians to see those, could he?

“I don’t think it matters what you draw.”

Malcolm wasn’t so certain. He elected to start with a tree. Trees were perfectly innocuous, at least. “Just remember that I’ve never claimed any great artistic talent.”

“I know that’s not the point.”

Unable to say what exactly the purpose of this exercise was, Malcolm wouldn’t rule anything out. “Easy for you to say.” Travis liked drawing and claimed it was relaxing. Malcolm would prefer a good book any day.

Truth be told, he’d prefer a truly awful book over this forced art session. It was better than being shot at, though. He checked on the other members of the away team: Captain Archer was unsurprisingly drawing Porthos, eliciting questions from their hosts; Hoshi’s artwork was some kind of multicolored geometric pattern; and Travis’s shuttlepod was getting more detail by the minute. Nobody appeared to be in any danger from the Belmaodians, most of whom were drawing buildings.

It was probably just as well that Subcommander T’Pol was on the bridge.

“Hoshi did mention that art is very important in Belmaodian culture,” said Travis, “and you’ve got to admit it says a lot about their culture that they start first contact this way.”

It also said a great deal about their culture that the Belmaodians were content to ignore him and Travis, though to be fair they didn’t have a reliable UT program yet so Hoshi and the Belmaodian linguist had to work hard in order to facilitate discussion. Malcolm finished his tree and started in on a second.

“Maybe they’ll take us to an art museum,” continued Travis.

Personally he preferred history museums to art museums, and he wasn’t altogether thrilled with the security prospects for a museum, but Malcolm simply said, “Looking for some prints to decorate your quarters?”

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea.”

At least someone was enjoying art time.


	5. Men vs Squirrel

“Too bad you didn’t have an emergency landin’ with the Cap’n or Malcolm, Travis. They’re the Eagle Scouts.”

“No disrespect to either of them, but I’d just as soon nearly crash a shuttlepod with the man most likely to fix it.”

“We’ll be up and runnin’ in a few hours. Might not even be late to rendezvous with _Enterprise._ I think I managed to save enough fuel, once I can patch up the fuel lines we should be good to go.”

“My point exactly. We don’t need badges in firestarting to survive this, we need an engineer.”

“Well, you’ve got one. I’ve gotta have a word with Starfleet about the fuel line placement on these pods. It’s too vulnerable.”

“I’ve noticed that’s a recurring theme.”

“Mind you, shuttlepods weren’t really designed to check out debris fields from old battles. Still, it shouldn’t be so easy to cut the fuel lines. I don’t like it.”

“Me neither. How can I help?”

“Hmm, not sure. This isn’t gonna be by the book, that much I can tell you. It’ll hold, but my team will have to completely redo it once we get back. Why don’t you scan the area, make sure there aren’t any hungry bears that are gonna think I’m dinner, or, I don’t know, tornadoes or somethin.’”

“Either you’re trying to find something for me to do, or you’re trying to cover all your bases for when Malcolm asks about this misadventure.”

“Hey, he’s always sayin’ I need to think more about potential dangers.”

“Somehow I doubt he meant tornadoes, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate the caution.”

* * *

 

“Commander?”

“Yes?”

“It’s not a tornado, but I think it’s about to rain.”

“Damn. I can’t let water get inside the fuel lines. I’ll have to cover this up and wait for the storm to pass. Hand me the toolkit?”

“There’s a squirrel trying to steal one of your tools.”

“Oh no you don’t! Give that back, you little bugger.”

“I don’t think it speaks English.”

“Ha. It does recognize relative size, though.”

“It didn’t go very far. I think it might be waiting for another chance.”

“I don’t know what use a squirrel has for a microwelder anyway.”

“It’s shiny?”

“Travis, you might’ve just discovered another galactic constant.”

“Thanks. I think. Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“The squirrel just ran into the pod.”

“Looks like we’re on pest control duty now. Maybe we can chase it out the door.”

“It’s running everywhere but the door.”

“If it’d move away from the controls we could use a phase pistol, but we can’t risk hittin’ the control panel.”

“It would help if it kept still.”

“Yeah. And fryin’ our own controls would mean a hell of a lot of paperwork. You go right, I’ll go left.”

“So the squirrel can run between us?”

“It’s tauntin’ us, Travis.”

“Get away from my granola bar, you little bastard!”

“Your snack has squirrel spit on it now.”

“Alright, that’s it – ouch.”

“You okay?”

“Hit my funny bone. I’ll live.”

“Nothin’ funny about that.”

“I think he’s enjoying this immensely.”

“He keeps going back to your snack.”

“Too bad I can’t anymore.”

“Maybe we can use that. Throw it outside.”

“It’s worth a try. I’ll break it into pieces and make a trail.”

“Okay, let’s sit and give him a couple of minutes.”

“I’m really starting to see why people hate rodents.”

“It’s workin.’ He’s nibblin’ his way towards the hatch.”

“Why would anybody want something like this as a pet?”

“Beats me. Do we have any more of those granola bars?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Not you, the squirrel. He only ate the pieces of granola bar that were inside the shuttlepod.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“Can we damn the squirrel instead?”

* * *

 

“Travis?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think Starfleet is really gonna care exactly how long it took us to get that squirrel out of here, do you?”

“If we told them it took an hour, they’d probably be thinking of Earth squirrels, which would be ridiculous.”

“Right. This was no ordinary squirrel.”

“Much smarter. Maybe even destined to be the dominant species on this planet someday.”

“So, we’ll just round down.”

“Works for me, Commander.”


End file.
